


Lead Me Home

by lady_ataralasse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Fluff, Plenty of banter, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ataralasse/pseuds/lady_ataralasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Season 9: Episode 3. Dean is feeling overwhelmed with guilt at keeping Sam’s possession by Gadreel secret from Sam and telling Cas he has to leave the bunker. He needs to talk to someone. And your phone rings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead Me Home

 

♪Soundtrack: Hold On by Tom Waits, Lead Me Home by Jamie N. Commons, and Stealing Cars and Need the Sun to Break by James Bay♪

You wake up to the sound of your phone’s ring-tone. You keep it on “do not disturb” after 10, so if the call is coming through you know it has to be one of your “favorites” people, so it’s worth waking up for although it doesn’t feel that way until you see who it is.

There’s a picture above the “accept/ignore” buttons that you took on a whim when he was just waking up, looking gentle and sleepy for a change. You see those intense, green eyes staring into you, soft with sleep like he’s inside your phone, and it wakes you right up like coffee to the bloodstream. Dean wouldn’t call at this hour unless it was important, and you’re worried that someone is in the hospital.

You tap your phone to answer the call. “Dean?”

"Yeah. Hey, I’m sorry, did I wake you?"

"Are you ok?"

"Not really, no." His voice sounds rough, even for him.

"Right, stupid question. Do you need a pick up? Is someone in the hospital?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. We’re all safe and sound. I just…I needed to talk to someone." And that wakes you up more surely than caffeine. Dean’s not exactly the guy who wears his heart on his sleeve or likes to talk through his feelings most of the time, and he doesn’t open up to most people when he does feel like sharing. So the idea of him calling you in the middle of the night because he needs you to be there for him sends warm fuzzy snuggles through every piece of you.

"Of course. You want me to come over?" You expect him to say no. He always feels like he has to be the strong one.

There’s a long pause. “You don’t have to do that. You were probably asleep.”

You know it might be as close as he can come to saying yes, and you’re already tugging on yesterday’s clothes. “I’m on my way. Give me a sec to put on my headset. We can talk until I get there, ok?”

"OK. Hey…Thanks."

You can hear a million emotions in that one word. You know how hard it is for him to say he needs someone to listen. You finish getting dressed, grab a couple things from your kitchen and head over, stopping by a 24 grocery along the way.

Dean refuses to talk about whatever is bothering him until you get there because he doesn’t want to distract you on the road, but he doesn’t suggest hanging up. “Look, can you just talk to me about your life until your get here? I think just hearing the sound of your voice would really help me right now.”

It’s heart melting the things he says when his armor’s down like this. “Yeah sure, Dean, I can do that.” You tell him all about what’s been happening in your life, trying to keep the topics light, and you even manage to draw him into a discussion about  _Game of Thrones_. You both love the “Tyrion and Bronn Show.” You can hear him smile over the phone, and it’s like a meteor in the night sky: a burst of light in darkness.

Dean meets you at the door. He looks terrible. You haven’t seen him this bad since Sam was in a coma. His eyes are red, exhausted. Dean looks like he just went a bloodless ten rounds with the champ and won by a hangnail. You’re a little surprised he’s able to stand by the look of him, but he ushers you inside.

Once he’s locked the door, Dean surprises you by pulling you into the biggest bear hug. You pull back for just a second to put down your bag and he looks a little self-conscious, vulnerable, like you pulling away mid-hug left him naked in a not sexy way. “Sorry,” you apologize, moving back in to resume hugging him. “It seemed like you needed a two-handed hug.” In all honesty, it seems like there’s a body-size gap in Dean’s armor right now, and he needs you to cover it, to protect him from all the pain that just wants to flood in and drown him from the inside out.

Dean gives you a grateful half smile that looks fragile as spun sugar and you pull him back in, nuzzling under his chin. You can see all the cracks where he’s been broken before. It feels like you’re holding him to keep the pieces together, and he’s holding on to you to keep afloat. “Thank you for coming over. I really need to talk to someone right now.”

"I’m glad you called." You rub your hands over his back. The flannel over hard muscles feels good, but he feels so tense. Of course you were going to come over. He’s always there for everyone else. When you call, Dean picks up and he listens and does what he can to make it better. It’s your turn.

He lets you go, rubbing at his eyes and pulling himself back in. You step back, looking him over critically. “Dean, when was the last time you had a meal of real food? Or a full night’s sleep?”

He runs a finger roughly through his short hair. “I honestly have no idea.”

You shake your head, grateful you expected this. “Does your Bat Cave have a kitchen?”

Dean chuckles. He loves it when you play into his childhood alter-ego. “Yeah, why?”

"I’m making you some food and you can tell me all about whatever is torturing you and then I’m going to tuck you into bed. Even Bruce Wayne needs sleep."

Dean starts to play with a strand of your hair. “I love it when you take charge. So, what … exactly will I be eating?”

You don’t miss the innuendo. He’s playing now, armor up and all smirk and swagger. You know better than to press. It’s better to just keep letting him lower the armor on his own again, when he’s ready. So for now, you flash your flirtiest smile and head deeper into the bunker for the Men of Letters. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Lead the way.”

You let him lead you into the kitchen and start unpacking things from your bag while Dean sits at the counter. Dean sits, waiting and you pour him a drink: whiskey. You hold your hand over the glass, before passing it across. “You only get one. I’m making you something better to drink, something that will help you relax, but this is your last bit of alcohol tonight, so slip slowly. I wouldn’t even pour you this, but you seem like you haven’t had much yet tonight.”

"No, I’ve been trying to cut back. It’s too hard to keep track of the lies otherwise." He runs a hand through his hair again. You wonder if he notices he does that whenever his armor starts to slip. You pretend not to notice. Patience is key.

"Lies?" You pull food out of the bag you brought, getting out pans, utensils, setting up, listening.

"That’s why I called you. I have these secrets and keeping them all inside by myself is killing me. It’s why I’m not sleeping. It’s why I’m not eating right. It’s why I called you, because I have to tell someone these things. I have to tell someone I can trust. All day long, I have to be strong for everyone. I have to make the big choices. Even when I don’t have to make the choices alone, I always seem to be the final vote. I have to protect the people I love whatever the cost. I have to save the world."

You take a break from cooking to take a pull of whiskey. “You know, when most guys say that, they’re just being dramatic.”

Dean laughs bitterly. “Yeah, well most guys don’t have a lot of things in their life that I do.” He sighs heavily and you swear you can hear the weight of the world shifting on his shoulders. Then he looks up into your eyes and his gaze is so direct it’s almost scary. “But they also don’t have you.”

"Me?" You just stare at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, you. Someone who gets it. Someone to talk to who doesn’t judge, doesn’t coddle, doesn’t condescend. Most guys don’t have someone they can trust completely to let them just say anything and it’s ok."

"I’m honored that you feel that way with me."

"You know my life, the people in it, the things that have to come first, and you respect it. You make it better."

"I try."

Dean smiles and now there’s a little more strength behind it. “You succeed.”

You stop cooking, turn down the heat and hold him again. You can’t not.

"I know I don’t always make it easy to be there for me." He’s talking into your hair, and letting you hold him again while he holds on as if he’s trying to reassure himself that you’re real.

You laugh weakly “No, you don’t, but you’re worth it, you know.”

"You don’t have to say that." His voice is breaking. You don’t dare turn to look yet. Dean needs to start breaking without you seeing it. It’s enough that he’s letting you hear it and hold him through it.

"I do have to say it, until you believe me. Now, tell me your secrets. I’ll carry them with you."

Dean shakes his head against your neck, and you can feel his tears salting your skin. “You don’t know what they are. You might not want them once I tell you.”

"You know what you were saying before about trusting me? Well, I trust you. I trust that if you say these secrets have to be kept, they do, and I’ll help you keep them. It’s not going to get easier keeping them alone."

Dean’s head burrows deeper into your shoulder. “It’s not. I can barely do it now. You have to not yell when I tell you. They’ll hear.”

"I will be discrete." You pull away and move to check the doors to the kitchen before closing them. The sound of boiling water draws your focus. "I’m going to finish your dinner while you tell me what you need to tell me and then you’ll eat it while I tell you if there’s something more that we can do."

Dean sniffs, brushing at his eyes. “Do I smell onions?”

"Yeah, that’s probably why we’re both tearing up." It’s a half truth you both need to gather strength. "I’m making you beef stroganoff."

Dean makes a low, groaning noise that would normally have your hormones dancing. “You trying to get an invite to live here or something?”

You laugh, because you need it to be strong for him. “I’m trying to make you feel loved.”

"You’re doing well so far." His voice is rough and you grin, eyes blurry from the "onions."

"Well just wait, I’m making you real hot chocolate too."

"Why don’t you just make me some pie and-" His voice cuts off when you pull a peanut butter pie from the bag.

"I thought this would go well with your hot chocolate and the sugar overload would sent you right to sleep."

"You are a goddess."

"You are a charmer. Now start talking."

"It’s about Sam."

You finish putting the meat in the pan and let it cook a minute so you can lean close to him for this. “What about Sam? Is he ok?”

"Yes, but the only reason he’s ok is because he’s getting help, help he doesn’t know about, help he can’t know about."

"Help from whom?" You want to ask if Dean made another deal with a demon, but that sounds like judging even in your head.

"An angel."

"An angel other than Cas because Cas is now mortal?" You conclude.

"Yes. He’s inside Sam, healing Sam and himself."

"Since he was booted from Heaven by Cas."

"Right."

"And Sam has no idea?"

"Sam was dying.” His voice breaks and he starts shaking under your hands. “Cas vouched for Ezekiel-I call him Zeke-and I had to-it was the only way to save him. I had to save him."

You hold him while he shakes and keeps talking, his sins spilling down his face like rain.

"I had to trick him. I told Ezekiel to go to him as me and trick him into giving his permission. After Lucifer, I didn’t see any way we could convince him in time. He’ll see angel possession as a violation … but he was dying. Sammy was dying."

"You did the best thing you could Dean."

"But I’m still lying to him. I have to, because if I don’t Sam will kick Zeke out and they both die. Sam’s not strong enough on his own and we keep getting into fights and it makes the process take longer. We can’t do this job without an angel anymore apparently. People around us keep needing resurrecting. If it weren’t for Zeke, we’d have lost Cas and Charlie. I had to kick Cas out because he’s being tracked and I can’t let that kind of danger near Sam right now and Ezekiel isn’t strong enough to protect us all. Zeke needs to be stronger to help us help him. That’s the other thing, after Sam is better and Zeke gets a new vessel, I promised to help him get back into heaven and I don’t have the first clue about how to do that, but I have to find a way. So now, I have a promise I don’t know how to keep, I’m lying to Sam about something I know he won’t be ok with when he finds out, and Cas is out there alone, confused, and there’s no one to help him figure out how to be human and we should be helping him. I couldn’t even explain why Cas had to leave really. And Kevin needs a break in the worst way. I just feel like I’m failing everyone around me the harder I try to protect them. It’s my whole life: failing. And on the outside looking in it looks like at least Sam is healthy and we’re good as brothers, but I know it’s about to go to hell at any minute. I hate this lying to him after everything we’ve been through."

"Dean, you’re not failing. You’re trying and I think you’re succeeding more than anything."

“How do you think that?” You know that somewhere he knows. Dean has his own list of ways to justify things that keeps him sane and he repeats it to himself in quiet moments like prayers.

“Sam is alive and healing because you had faith. Sam will get better because of this and you have a new angelic ally you can count on, and you clearly need that. Kevin is safe and here and you have the second most powerful demon at your disposal to torture for information. ”

“And Cas?”

“Cas does worry me, but I don’t see any way you could have done anything better. You have some promises to keep and you can’t do that if Cas is here. Cas can survive on his own. He has before. Sam can’t survive without this. You chose the only path you could. It’ll get better. Sam and his angelic symbiote will separate and you’ll be able to bring Cas back or find some way to hide him better. I mean this place is full of information, there has to be something that would help hide him better. Or maybe we can all move to OZ for awhile.” You’re half joking and Dean chokes out a laugh.

“Yeah, we can get a place in the Emerald City.”

“I can ride a horse of a different color.”

“You really don’t think I’m just setting a grease fire?”

You purse your lips. “Maybe, but I still don’t see that you had a better choice. Sam is happier now than he has been in years and he deserved the chance to make it to that. Dean you play the hand you’re dealt or you fold. You decided to keep playing. I think that was the right choice even if it goes to hell for awhile some day soon. And if it does, I will come over and take care of you again.” Your nose says dinner is ready so you hand him a sturdy  handkerchief from your back pocket, kiss his forehead and move to the stove.

While dean blows his nose and wipes his tears away, you pull dinner off the stove, combine the onions, mushrooms, and beef with tomato soup and warm them with some spices and then pour them over the penne in a bowl for Dean. You make yourself a small bowl and put them both on the table, just out of his reach and go to him.

 Dean is still sitting, wiping at his eyes and you go back to holding him, pulling him close and running your hands over his back, his hair, pausing only to kiss his forehead. “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester. You take care of the people you love, you make the world a safer place, and you make the impossible history. You are far too hard on yourself, but that’s just who you are and I love who you are, so I’m not going to beat you up for carrying the weight of the world.  I’m just going to offer to help you recover your strength, share your burden if you let me, and help you carry on.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not the only one who takes care of the people you love, Dean.”

He pulls you closer for a minute and then reaches around you for the food. “That smells amazing.”

“It tastes better.” You go to sit across from him, but he doesn’t let go of your hand and he turns his puppy eyes on you. His puppy eyes never look helpless, just broken and sad. You nod and pull up a stool beside him so you can eat out of the bowl over your lap and even when your hands are busy, your thighs are right next to each other, so he can feel the reassurance of human contact while he eats. You smile at him gently and he smiles a little back.

“Love, huh?” He’s calling you out and you could back away, but you know that you can’t too for the same reason that you came over in the middle of the night to watch him sleep.

“Yeah, come on Dean don’t you know that by now?”

“That was a pretty broad statement.”

“Made in reference to taking care of one person.”

“There’s love like friends and family.”

“Yeah, but I don’t kiss my friends and family like I kiss you.”

“You’ve never said it before not like that. You’re careful about it when you do say it.”

“So are you.”

“That’s why I’m noticing it.”

“Well I do. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean puts down his food a minute and kisses you. You realize at that moment that somehow you haven’t kissed him since you came over yet. It sends so much heat and heart through you. It tells you everything he has so much trouble saying. When he pulls back, his eyes are full of you and he sighs. “I don’t kiss just anyone like that either. You’re the only one I would have called tonight.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

He kisses you again, grateful that you get it, and he doesn’t have to say it. It’s too much for tonight.  He’s crossed so many of his lines already, but in his own Han Solo-like way,  he told you he feels the same way and on top of everything else he’s shared you feel like the luckiest woman alive.

You don’t say anything more to each other of consequence while you eat. Dean doesn’t even drink his whiskey. Then you both eat pie and he drinks your real hot chocolate while making sounds that make you blush and you try to distract yourself, by thinking of something, anything that could help make things better with the secrets he’s shared. “I wish I had some real advice Dean, but seriously, I can’t think of anything I’d do differently. But I’m here if whenever you need to talk about things.”

“I know. Sam might be right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Telling you helped. It felt good to get it off my chest.”

“Sam is pretty smart.”

“Yeah he is.”

“So are you, Dean.”

“Not as smart as you.”

“Debatable. We just have different knowledge strengths. Now, you’ve all but licked your plate.” You start to suggest Dean head up to bed and you’ll catch up, but something in his eyes, makes you stop the suggestion before it leaves your brain. “How about I clean up in here and then I’m gonna tuck you in to sleep.”

“Sleep, wonder what that’s like.”

You shake your head but don’t say anything and put away the leftovers away. While you’re washing the dishes in the sink, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself against your back and you fall into that perfect space between his arms. Dean rubs his chin against your head and the stubble feels amazing. He smells incredible, like aftershave, gunpowder, chocolate,  and peanut butter. Dean starts kissing your neck. “You know, I don’t have to stay go right to sleep.”

You turn, knowing what you should say and wondering if you have the resolve.You meet his eyes and let him kiss you, slow, soft, deliberate. You let Dean lead you to his room, stopping to kiss him every ten steps or so. He pulls you down onto his bed and holds you against him. You start moaning into his mouth and pull back ever so slightly, regret all over your face. “Dean, I really hate to say this, you have no idea how much, but I think you just need to sleep tonight.” He starts to protest, but you rush on, “I promise I will be here when you wake up and then I would be happy to take care of you some more.”

Dean looks grumpy, but tired. “You sure?”

“No, but I think you need to sleep and if I give in you won’t sleep. So this is my last act for the night of being strong for you. I promise I’ll make it up to you in at least eight hours.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Deal.” He holds out a hand and you shake on it. “But, I have one condition.”

“And that is?”

“Dean I will not stay the night naked. I will lose my willpower, and you’ll never sleep.”

“Not the condition, but way to flood my brain with more dirty thoughts. My condition is that tomorrow morning, you let me take care of you.”

It’s your turn to shake on it. “Deal. After you get some good sleep, you make me breakfast and take care of me. And until then, I’m going to stay right here and read while you sleep. I’ll make sure nothing disturbs you. And if you have nightmares, I’ll be right here and I’ll get you back to sleep.”

“How will you do that?”

“I’ll read you dirty stories and if necessary I will sing.”

Dean chuckles, warm and rough against you. “You’re an angel.” His voice is so tender now and you respond in kind.

"You’re my hero. I wish I was an angel so I could be more help."

"You were a lot of help tonight anyway."

"Good. Mission accomplished."

"Hey, you think you could stay here for awhile?"

"Like for the weekend?"

"I was thinking like you moving in."

You could do a happy dance, but it seems out of sync with the gravity of the moment. You can do that later in the privacy of your home. “Yeah, I could do that.”

"Good, because I kinda like you taking care of me."

"Well I kinda like when you take care of me too. And I like taking care of you when you let me. Does this mean you’re going to let me more often?"

"Maybe. You have a way of making me feel like a man even when you’re letting me lean on you."

"Because it’s not weak to trust someone else, Dean. It takes far more strength to trust someone else to help you, than to carry it all yourself."

"Yeah, just like that."

You kiss his forehead and then his nose, and finally his mouth.  “Go to sleep Dean Winchester, I’ll keep watch tonight. You’re safe and loved and tomorrow, we can kick ass with Team Free Will together.”

"You can start by packing." He mutters.

"If you’re sure."

"Yup, you’re packing. Been thinking about it a long time."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"Sleep Dean."

"I’ll dream of you…" You’re on the verge of melting when he finishes his sentence, “naked.” You can see the smirk on his lips and roll your eyes.

"Scoundrel." You wouldn’t want him any other way; after all, he’s your scoundrel.

"Princess."

He smiles and you smile and he falls asleep, his head by your lap, your book in hand reading to stay awake and keep watch over him. If he wakes up from nightmares, you’ll be there and you’ll hold him and comfort him back to sleep because you are the person he’s letting be there for him. Dean Winchester, the guy who has to be there for the whole world, who has to take everything onto his shoulders whether it’s his burden to bear or not, is letting you take care of him because he trusts you, because of who you are, and because he loves you too and that feels pretty damn amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago. I have ideas for a sequel and prequel, but I have some other things to put out first. :)


End file.
